Adieu, My Love
by colorsandpromises
Summary: "I loved you once, but our love has reached its Autumn." For the first time in her life, Sulpicia betrays her own husband. Post BD, One shot


Aro Volturi sits down in the gleaming black thrones in perfect synchronization with his two brothers. Although time and date were both irrelevant in the lives of these particular vampires, it was the last Friday in April, and the three brothers had just finished their monthly meeting in Aro's study. The Volturi had recently been informed of the formation of a new, but small, coven in Crete, and were debating on sending guard members to secretly observe them. Marcus objected to the idea, fearing this would generate tension and perhaps even more resentment between the Volturi and the rest of the vampire world. Ever since the confrontation with the Cullens, there has been bad blood running through them and the others. However, since Aro was _always_ the deciding vote, Marcus was outvoted. Jane and Felix were heading over as they spoke.

"Aro, if you are not going to heed my advice, why do you insist upon my presence?" Marcus rasped quietly. To Aro's surprise, the man sounded genuinely aggravated; it was a step up from his usual apathy, in Aro's opinion.

"Come now, my friend, my intentions are only to see if our secret is being kept by the newcomers. It is _necessary_," Aro's milky voice had the hypnotic ability of persuasion. Marcus fell silent, but out of the corner of Aro's eye, he could see Marcus shake his head in negation ever so slightly.

Before Aro could call Marcus out on his unusually snappy behavior, Caius jolted to his feet, startling them both.

"Listen!" he hissed, craning his head forward. The three brothers were alone in their throne room; Heidi was fetching a drink for the three, Felix and Jane were out, Demetri and Afton left the grounds for leisure and would be returning later that evening...

The only guards left in Volterra were Chelsea, Renata, Corin, and the wives.

Marcus ignored Caius's outburst, while Aro just observed at his suddenly panicked brother.

"Do you two not hear her?" Caius yelled, when neither of the brothers responded. He strode off his lofty throne, his black cloak billowing under him, and sauntered towards the doors, but a very distressed Corin stumbled into the room, as if she had been disoriented.

The Triumvirate all but gasped at her unsightly appearance.

The vampire's usual sand-colored hair was now frayed, charred, and cut in uneven lengths, and to an even deeper grotesque, Corin was missing her left arm. A wave a fear struck Aro; fear was a novel feeling for him.

_Was Volterra under attack?_

Dashing out of his chair, Aro ran to Corin's side, ignoring her frantic banter with Caius, and grasped her hand, but his hand landed on a folded piece of parchment. Grabbing the paper, Aro silenced the two vampire's conversation with one deathly stare, and began to read the beautiful penmanship that he knew immediately came from one person.

His wife.

_Aro,_

_As I write this, the pyre of my decided death is beginning to burn by my side. My darling, we have spent two thousand long years together, but I have realized, that it is time for me to leave this world. I loved you once, my sweet Aro, but as I held unto your arm in that snow-covered summit, I realized our love for each other has reached it's Autumn. Our love is not the same as those other couples, and we both know this shamefully well. However, as much as I want to apologize for what I am about to do, it would be in vain; my death has been long overdue. One day, when your time dawns, I will greet you at the gates of Heaven, and we shall move on from this bleak past. _

_Adieu, Adieu_

_ -Sulpicia-_

Her words seemed to blend together, as if they were melting, on the wrinkled parchment for Aro. After rehashing the written words a thousand times over, a warm hand was placed on Aro's shoulder.

"Brother?" Caius asked quietly, his voice showing the most compassion Aro has ever heard in his second lifetime.

But Aro did not want compassion. Or sympathy. _Especially not sympathy._ Picking his head back up, Aro shot both of his brothers the most harshest of glares, and proceeded to the pained female vampire at Caius's feet.

"You failed at your post, my dear Corin," Aro's voice sounded like sweet, nectarous poison. Before Corin could blink, Aro had finished what Sulpicia started. As soon as she was disposed of, the triad returned to the thrones, but Caius and Marcus were still unaware of the letter's contents.

Marcus was the one who built up the courage to ask his bristling brother, but Aro interrupted him.

"Sulpicia is dead, brothers. She has committed suicide," Aro stated simply. Before either of the two could respond or offer their genuine condolences, Aro rose from his throne and gracefully strode out, as if unaffected by Sulpicia's actions.

But neither of them would have said anything, anyway. Caius was beyond shock to speak, and Marcus knew now was not the appropriate time to talk about it with Aro. He knew of Aro and Sulpicia's diminishing attachment since the moment it began a few centuries ago. Ever since Aro found Jane and Alec, Aro started to expose his lust for power and acquisition, that of which Sulpicia did not care for that at all. She was a simple girl, very soft spoken and passive. Marcus never fully understood what Aro saw in Sulpicia as a wife. Caius thought he chose her because she would never defy him, but she definitely did so by committing suicide.

As Aro sauntered into his rarely used chambers, he froze at the sight of his monstrosity of a bed; _his _marriage bed with Sulpicia. Then, cleanly positioned on the wall above it, sat a portrait of Aro and his now deceased mate. Approaching the painting, Aro's eyes glazed over once he caught sight of his wife, who sat by his side with her hand on his knee. Painted over six hundred years ago, this time in their relationship reminded him of afternoon rendezvous with Sulpicia after meetings with his brothers, and midnight feedings they spent together.

Slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers, Aro reached for Sulpicia's last words, and read over them one last time. Aro's thoughts were anything but sane, however, his outside facade could have fooled anyone; with his unreadable red irises and his perfectly pristine face, Aro Volturi was the image of serenity...

Slowly approaching the painting, Aro's fingers lightly grazed over Sulpicia's face, the fabric of the canvas slightly covered in a layer of dust. And then in the twinkling of the eye, the painting was ripped into two, the thick canvas's cries echoing through the room.

A second later, a fire began in the stoned fire place, and the smell of burning paper began to waft throughout the halls of that damned citadel.

* * *

Maybe it was his own fault, Aro began to ponder. Maybe Sulpicia was too young, or maybe, she was not able to handle the burdens of vampirism, like longevity or how the world around them seem to constantly change. Maybe she was simply fleeting.

Her words rang some truth to them, as much as Aro hated to admit it. Their relationship became repressed, and as Sulpicia grew distant, Aro grew occupied. He never committed adultery, however, this was something Sulpicia feared all too often. But, this fear caused resentment in her own heart, and Aro knew this. After the death of Didyme in 900 AD, Aro and Caius both agreed to keep their wives safe and protected within the confinements of a tower. They also agreed to visit them often, making certain that their needs and desires were met by their own husbands.

_Did I fail in meeting her expectations?_ Aro thought, but no, Aro was never the one to blame. Even though their love did exist for a season, Aro knew perfectly well they were never truly mates, not after this.

_Especially _this.

His eyes adverted back unto the burning canvas, Sulpicia's face melting away at the red hot flames.

"How..._ dare you, betray me?" _Aro murmured just below a whisper, as he shook his head disapprovingly.

* * *

He stood there like a marble statue, relishing in every second that picture burned until the only bits left were charred black. Then, he turned away slowly, a high, ironic laugh rising in his chest.

_"Never again, never again. Burn in hell, Sulpicia."_

* * *

**So this is a one-shot, unless you guys want me to make this into a story, of which I have a few ideas. Tell me what you think!**


End file.
